My name is Dylan, and I'm a rapist...or at least I thought I was. Lying there in the dark, pretending to be asleep and listening for the tell-tale crackle of a police walkie-talkie from outside my apartment door, I wondered if Samantha was still in her bedroom. Wondered if she'd called the cops to tell them her roommate had raped her, or if she'd fled the apartment and was banging on our neighbors' doors, desperately trying to find someone who'd help her.
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Laura swung her hips back and forth as the music resonated in the small office. She spun around on her three inch black leather heels like a seasoned stripper, reaching for the back of a chair to balance herself as she bent over thrusting her gorgeous slim, tight ass upwards and towards him. The top buttons of her blouse were undone and the black lace of her bra was visible between the white silk fabric of the blouse as she continued her sexy striptease.
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Well, today is the big day! Stacy thinks the moment she wakes up. She blinks her baby blues open to see the streaks of sunlight across her room. The walls are bare and all of her stuff is piled around the room in cardboard moving boxes. Today, Stacy moves out of her parent's house to begin college.
She stretches and hops out of bed. The smell of her mother's breakfast is prominent throughout the house. Stacy heads downstairs.
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INTRODUCTION
The summer I was sent to Mountain Farm, I was in my late teens (19). A had for a couple of years already been soiling the sheets with my nightly juices almost every night and my attention to schoolwork and helping out at home had become more and more distracted by my growing and constantly aching cock and balls. The actual trigger was when my mother surprised me twice one afternoon when I was happily stroking my member in the family bathroom but had forgotten to lock the door.
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Paul had a little trouble finding Kaylee's apartment building and he was almost twenty minutes late by the time he finally reached her door. It was bad enough being flustered by having taken a wrong turn while following the directions he had been given but, as he pressed the doorbell, he discovered he was distinctly nervous indeed.
Kaylee's website specified several massage specialties but, although the text was suitably noncommittal and vague, it was clear that they were all of the more erotic variety.
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It was tradition among our friends to camp out in Jake's backyard at least once every summer. Jake had a giant tent, with three rooms and two closets. The first time we ever set it up it took us two hours. Working under the hot summer sun, joking and sweating, we were confident and untouchable. We were seniors this year, nearing maturity, working out every chance we had. Needless to say, we were very in shape.
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"Jesus!" I bleated in my wife's ear while watching her best friend, Melissa, pull her husband's giant cock out of his shorts. They were only a few feet away from us, snuggling up on the couch across from our own, but tonight they were taking their exhibitionism to new heights.
Melissa and Tommy had come over to hang out, something we've done countless times before, but, tonight things got a little heated, and it all seemed to start before I even got home from work.
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This is the story of the first and only man I've been with sexually. I had reached early middle age and found myself horny all the time and up late jacking off to internet porn. I especially found myself watching a lot of blow job scenes. I don't get enough or very good head from the wife, and I would occasionally cruise craigslist thinking jeez it would be easy to get a guy to give me an NSA blowjob.
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One thousand, eight hundred, and seventy-one visible stars danced above his head in the sky, circling about, scintillating, putting on their constant ballet for all those below. Not for the first time, he wondered at how many intelligences he was staring. Millions? Trillions? Or perhaps it was zero.
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Traci and Heather were discussing whether or not Karen Cambell would show up at their five year class reunion. They could hardly believe that the 'bitch' would show up after what had happened just over three years ago. But if she did Traci had some three and a half year old pictures that would insure a memorable reunion for her classmates.
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